


Blow Your Mind

by mac23



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, I just love the brokuroo dynamic so much, Iwa is definitely definitely gay, Kuroo is Bi, M/M, Multi, Oiks has a stalker, Oiks is the exotic dancer, and Iwa is just the unlucky handyman who crosses his path, and Iwa is the big bad wolf to scare him away, bo is pansexual, god I'm so bad at tagging, god help me, hot HOT dancing, like big gay, partially inspired by music, the bros are back at it, who doesn't love a 7 rings reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mac23/pseuds/mac23
Summary: Iwaizumi is genuinely a nice person, and sometimes it's his Achille's heel. When a beauty in a bar asks for his help, who is he to say no? Even if that beauty is an exotic dancer and an incredible pain in the ass.





	1. Thanks, Handsome

It was a crisp night—not cold, just crisp. The air had a slight edge to it, and it danced along the tanned skin of the tall man. Iwaizumi was particularly fond of nights like these. They agreed with him; they made him feel alive. Not just that, but they made him feel _good_ to be alive. Though, walking down the busy streets of Tokyo brought him no serenity the playful wind made it easier to bear. Most of all, the bar at the end of his route made the walk worth it. 

It wasn’t every night that he went down to the bar district to drink. He would venture there on big game days and even two of his friends’ bachelor parties. The buildings lining the brightly lit streets of his hometown hold many memories for the dark haired man. But tonight—oh tonight, was a night to drink. What else would he do when an ex tells him they’re back in town to reconnect? Well, he’s not a dumbass, that’s for sure: there’s no way he’d hook up with his ex, no matter how desperate he is. 

Iwaizumi has never once gone back to an ex. When he was with those people, he was a different person; and since they’ve gone and left his life, he’s improved himself and become a better person. Getting back together with an ex is like reverting back to who you once were when you were with them. All your old habits, all your old shortcomings—everything is restored and your right back to where you started. None of that shit is worth the trouble.

So here he sits, drinking his vodka in a crowded bar alone. Even if he were absolutely plastered he would still be able to feel the heat emanating from the far corner of the bar. It was indeed a gay bar, and he is indeed gay, but he didn’t come here because he’s in the market for someone new. So even when the man sauntered around the bar and took up the unoccupied seat next to Iwaizumi, the dark haired man minded his own business without sparing him a look.

“Why is a handsome man like you drinking all alone on this lovely Friday night?”

The sultry voice vibrated low in the mans throat, nearly a purr. It had a liquid tone, words smooth and tongue even smoother. 

“Look, I’m not looking for someone to take home tonight, so buzz off, ya?”

“My, my, so rude. Who said anything about going home with you?”

Iwaizumi’s head whipped to the side much faster than he bargained for. Annoyance briefly simmered before it was replaced by regret. He had tried to ignore the man, to chase him away, but the retort had caught him off guard. He regretted reacting to the comment, no doubt, but he regretted looking at the man even more.

It was the eyes that caught him first. They were like spider’s webs: once you looked into them, you’re trapped. Soft tresses of almond colored hair caressed his face in perfect harmony with the soft glow of the bar's horrible lighting. The brunet’s lips almost glistened as he smiled sweetly, perfect white teeth showcased for all to see. His sultry voice didn’t quite match the face resting atop a neatly manicured hand.

The brooding man turned his head away, scared he might lose himself in the sight of the beautiful man that sat next to him. Sure, lots of men approached him-- he was used to people looking to feel the arms of a muscular man for a night. But this man was in a whole other league no matter how he looked at it; and right now he was just tipsy. Why would someone so attractive approach an average joe like himself?

“Relax handsome, I’m not looking to get into your pants or steal your wallet. A few blocks back, I noticed a man following me and now he’s sitting at the table in the corner behind us.”

The sweet man gestured faintly to the space over his right shoulder and placed his hand on Iwaizumi’s bicep. His face lit up in a twinkly smile.

“You looked like a reasonable man when I saw you walk in. I figured if that creeper thought I was meeting you here, he might piss off but the fucker is still there.”

The nonchalantly thrown about cuss words didn’t feel right coming from such a pretty mouth, but that took the back burner in favor of the pressing problem at hand. Iwaizumi stole a tiny glance at the man hunched over a beer, trying his best, and failing, not to look suspicious. He stole looks at the beauty next to him and Iwaizumi knew they were indecent by the look in his eye.

He couldn’t help himself—he had never been one to turn away someone in need. How he was to help? Well considering that beggars can't be choosers, he wanted to make it look like the man had a real reason to venture to the run-down bar.

Iwaizumi drank the last of his vodka, motioning to the bartender that he wanted another. He swiveled his chair to face the man and pulled him to the end of his with a small tug of his thighs. It wasn't forceful, but it was enough to rope the man into his scheme. He maintained his balance with his left arm on the bar counter and snaked his right arm around the other's waist, leaning in to brush his lips along the shell of his ear.

“What’s your name?”

It was barely audible over the mind-numbing buzz of the bar, but it wasn’t meant for anyone but the light haired beauty. Iwaizumi gripped his waist tighter, simultaneously shooting daggers at the creep in the corner. He was a big guy whom not many trifled with. It was hard to imagine this coward would be any different. With just the malicious glare, the man stood and reluctantly exited the bar with a distasteful expression. Iwaizumi hated guys like that.

“Oikawa, Oikawa Tooru,” he offered, slight pink dusting the outer edges of his cheeks as Iwaizumi pulled away from him, face indifferent. 

“Well, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said as he downed the entire glass of vodka in front of him, “problem solved.”

He placed a bill on the counter and turned to leave the bar. Oikawa snapped his head around to find the previously occupied table empty, space devoid of the lurking man. His mouth was hanging aghast at how fast this stranger was able to scare the creep off. He followed after the man who had somehow already made it to the door.

“Wait, oof-“

Oikawa had tripped over the raised door frame of the bar door and landed face first in the other man’s back. 

“Oi dumbass, watch what you’re doing.”

Frazzled and a bit clumsily, Oikawa tried getting to his feet before being pulled up by Iwaizumi. The brunet watched the man bend down and pick his keys up off the ground. He was slightly shorter than Oikawa, if not by only an inch. Absolutely built with a slightly tanned skin tone. A heap of untamable chestnut colored spikes rested on his head, eyes sharp and eyebrows furrowed. In the harsh neon lights of the bar room, Oikawa had thought this man to be handsome, but now that they stood there in full moonlight, he realized that wasn’t just the margaritas talking.

“What do you want?”

He sound annoyed and his face seemed to support the emotion but Oikawa was not put off. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. In his profession, disapproving faces were a dime a dozen.

“Would you tell me your name?”

Iwaizumi didn’t see the point but he was tipsy, so what did it matter?

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Oooo Iwaizumi, what a manly name. Here, love, stop by any time for a drink on me. As a thank you for helping me out.”

The smiley brunet handed him a business card which he gingerly accepted, all the while looking at him in confusion.

“Uh, okay.”

“Good. I’ll see you there, _Iwa-chan._ ”

With a wink, the barside beauty was walking off into the night leaving a sputtering man in his wake. Iwa-chan? What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? Iwaizumi was flabbergasted at the nickname and as much as it annoyed him, he had another emerging emotion: utter disbelief.

After all, he was just handed a one way ticket to Sparkling Waters: Exotic Dance Club.


	2. What Could Go Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Kuroo and Bokuto-- our two fave mischievous idiots.

It had been a week since this business card came into his possession and he was positively convinced that going was a bad idea. Intoxicated Iwaizumi was an idiot and the memory of his close encounter left him blushing angrily. He hated how simple a man he was—he let a beautiful man cloud his judgement and now he has first AND secondhand embarrassment. ‘Cause let’s get one thing straight—he didn’t know the drunk Iwaizumi. He’s someone else entirely and sober Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize him.

Regardless of how he felt, in his hand were free drinks. He had never been to this club, let alone an exotic club in the first place. There was only one person he could call for advice. Actually, there was a slew of people he could call about this but there is only one he knew wouldn’t judge. The walking flea bag himself: Kuroo Tetsurou.

The phone barely rang a full tone before a lackadaisical voice piped up his hellos.

“Yooo, Kuroo at your service. What do you want?”

“Kuroo, I need you to come over here and punch me in the face.”

“No fucking way,” he gasped before the voice moved further away from the receiver. Iwaizumi could make out, _dude, Iwaizumi is gonna let me deck him_ and another respond _fucking sick, bro._

“Alright, done deal but Bokuto is coming too. He’s gotta be my witness.”

“What the fuck ever, Kuroo. Just get over here.”

Kuroo arrived in record time, thanks to the prospect of getting a clean hit on Iwaizumi. This was a feat he had yet to accomplish as Iwaizumi was simply too quick and skilled for him. They both had their fair share of fights, but Iwaizumi always trumped Kuroo.

“Holy fuck, this is going to be glorious.”

The messy-haired man cracked his knuckles and started to remove his shirt for the brawl, when Iwaizumi cut him off.

“I wasn’t serious, idiot. I just need your advice.”

The look of disappointment painted Kuroo’s face before it was replaced by piqued interest. It was rare for Iwaizumi to ask for advice. After all, he was the most mature and reasonable of all their friends.

Iwaizumi tossed the business card across the island counter before retrieving a cup from his cabinets and fishing through his fridge for something that was anything but milk and water. He settled on orange juice.

“What do you know about this place?”

Kuroo’s eyes lit up as he beckoned Bokuto over. The latter had been occupied playing with the black cat that Iwaizumi looked after.

“Bro, where did you get this?”

“What even is it?”

The two guests in Iwaizumi’s home looked between each other and smiled mischievously. They were definitely up to no good, and Iwaizumi didn’t like the look of the two being so excited. They were idiots, so for them to be excited was, in fact, very dangerous.

“This is a ticket into an invite only club in the red light district, downtown. It’s pretty exclusive and, from what I’ve heard, expensive. Of course, expensive means they’ve got the pretty ones.”

They elbowed each other before turning their attention back to Iwaizumi.

“So how did someone as straight-laced as our Iwaizumi get his hands on a ticket to an invite only club?”

“I met a man at the bar last night, and he gave me this as thanks for helping him chase away a creep.”

Bokuto shrugged his shoulders and hit Kuroo on the back.

“I guess that just means we have to go.”

“There’s only one ticket, though.”

“Nah, that’s fine. The ticket can be used for a group, too.”

Iwaizumi sighed and put his empty cup in his sink before throwing the card back at the two.

“You guys can go, I don’t care.”

“What, no, you have to come with. It’d be a waste, bro. Come on, guy’s night out and I’ll buy drinks.”

Bokuto bowed down to Kuroo at the proposition to which Iwaizumi remained indifferent. Honestly, with everyone around him offering him free drinks he wasn’t sure if it was just luck or if a storm was headed his way. His friends all but made the plans for him and Iwaizumi finally gave in. How harmful could one visit be?

In time, Iwaizumi would come to appreciate the irony of that statement.

\------------------------------------------------------

Iwaizumi considered himself a good judgement of character, but somehow he ended up being good friends with some of the most devilish people he knew. Kuroo and Bokuto managed to rope him into a guy’s night out at a club he had no real desire to go to. They all but picked out his outfit for him, too. Iwaizumi had tried to resist everything the two were throwing his way but he was currently 0 for 2. When had he become such a pushover?

He had to admit, his friends knew him very well. The gray, three-quarter sleeve V-neck they decided on did look great with the black jeans he had hidden away. Iwaizumi hadn’t worn them since high school and had tucked them away for a reason—yet, Kuroo always sniffs out everything. It’s impossible to hide anything from Kuroo. 

The cool summer night all but licked at the exposed skin on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck. It was another beautiful night, which managed to equalize his mood a bit. Bokuto knew the way to the bar so they followed him down the stone paths that wound around tall buildings. Soon, loud music echoed in the night air, drowning out the sound of Kuroo talking about some RPG video game that just came out. 

“You know, for someone so clever, you’re a massive fucking nerd.”

“For someone so cool, you’re just a tiny ball of hatred.”

“I’m not tiny, asshole.”

“You’re shorter than me, that makes you tiny.”

They were about to start roughhousing when Bokuto interjected to point out the club. It was a dark, sleek establishment. Everything seemed very sophisticated, from the giant glass doors to the cursive letters that spelled out the name of the club. Iwaizumi had to admit, it looked decent enough. 

Clubs weren’t usually his thing for two reasons: he gets easily embarrassed and seeing all the exposed skin wouldn’t bode well for him; and, he’s not someone in so desperate need of sexual attention that he would frequent a club like this one. Most of them were female entertainment anyway, and he doesn’t partake. This one, however, boasted a dual entertainment system of both men and women. It couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Right?


	3. I See it, I Like it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> club scene, babyyyyyyy

In all the clubs he had been in, they always blared the music loud—he thought, at least. The surround sound in this one made him feel like he was breathing in music instead of air. Was it louder than he’s used to? He kept second guessing himself—he couldn’t tell if the music was super loud of if the people here were just well-behaved.

Either way, he immediately spotted the bar and made a b-line for it. Reverberating bass wormed its way into his body, reluctantly drawn into the rhythm of some Ariana Grande song. He showed the bartender the card and was served immediately.

_I see it, I like it, I want it, I got it_

Her voice wasn’t unpleasant but he wasn’t thinking about that very hard, not when the vodka that they served him was top shelf stuff. Free drinks tonight? Alright, he’ll play your silly game.  
The bartender winked at him, and he politely smiled back, turning around in his chair to take in his surroundings.

Kuroo and Bokuto had chosen one of the couches instead, both already occupied with scantily clad female dancers. It was amusing because they looked like your average heterosexual men. They give you that vibe with all of their “bro” and “no homo” bullshit, but they were anything but straight. Iwaizumi was not privy to their exact terms, but he knew they both like men just as much as they did women.

Kuroo was right, though, they did seem to appeal to a lot of different preferences here. His attention strayed from the scandalous acts on the club floor, and landed on the dancers. The center stage of the establishment was occupied by a familiar man. The blue light was much kinder to him than the lights of the rusty bar they met in. His fishnets rose high, nearly disappearing underneath his crop top. They were illuminated by the black lights built into the stage. His hair was wild, messily thrown about. It made it easier to run hands through, which Iwaizumi would discover happens quite often. The man dipped and wove with the bass, swaying his hips to the unrelenting treble. All the other dancers wore heels, but he was shoeless. It made for a more graceful display while he spun and hoisted himself up the pole on the stage. 

It was as though the man didn't have to _try_ to be sexy. He didn’t need the help of extra makeup and high heels nor did he need to expose every possible inch of his skin. His lithe body and liquid movements accentuated his beauty, enthralling everyone in the club. No wonder the club had shot all the way to the top of the list in terms of exclusivity—they had a natural born entertainer headlining a majority of their open nights.

Iwaizumi observed silently, taking in every pop and every roll, not missing the seductive looks he was getting from the man on stage once he was spotted. Wherever the dancer’s hands roamed, Iwaizumi followed, imagining they were his instead.

His jeans were tight enough to prevent any elevations, but loose enough to allow the transition. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on, but for whatever reason, his desire extending beyond wanting to touch. He wanted to feel, to caress, to _please_. Frankly, he chalked it up to going nearly a year without getting any. 

_You like my hair? Gee thanks, just bought it._

The spider’s webs that threatened to capture him during their first meeting had completely pulled him in. Their locked eye contact continued through his dance—no matter which way he flowed, the man’s eyes were always front-face to make sure Iwaizumi was still watching. Not that they needed to, because there was no way he was going to look away.

Rock solid now, Iwaizumi paid his surroundings no mind. For him, is was just the two of them. No embarrassment clouded the moment, just hunger. Until the dancer stepped off the stage, slowly walking towards the bar to the tune of the music.

_Receipts be looking like phone numbers, if it ain’t money then wrong number_

He nearly spat out his drink, because with the dancer came everyone’s attention. Seeing the dancer strut towards him had his breathed hitched in his throat. When he arrived, he reached past Iwaizumi and grabbed the drink the bartender handed him, careful to hover as close as he could without touching the dark-haired man. 

The stoic man watched the dancer down the drink in one go, giving him a couple once-overs as he cat-walked back to the stage. 

In that moment, Iwaizumi felt like a massive idiot for getting so caught up in the dancer’s game, one he regretted agreeing to play in the first place. He tore his eyes away from the dancer as the song changed to another club popular. 

“Yo, Iwaizumi, man, that dancer was like totally checking you out,” Kuroo said to him as he took up the barstool adjacent. 

“That was the one who gave me the card.”

Another drink found its way into the hands of the brooding man and he realized he needed to check himself. He was drinking way too much and way too fast.

“Pretty little thing, isn’t he?”

He wasn’t sure why Kuroo’s words pissed him off so much, it’s not like he had any right to be anyway.

“Relax, don’t think of too many ways to murder me-- I know they won't find my body. I already found someone to keep me company.” With a wink, Kuroo disappeared back into the crowd, two drinks in hand. 

Briefly, Iwaizumi wondered about the rules of the establishment.

“I swear to god if he gets kicked out, I’m going to lose my god damn mind,” he muttered to no one but himself.

“I sure hope that doesn’t happen,” a voice to his right startled him.

In ironic fashion, Oikawa was back to sitting at a barstool next to him, resting his head in his pretty little hands the same as last time. 

“Fucking hell, at least announce you’re here,” he said a lot more angrily then he meant to. All this sex in the air was messing with his brain and he couldn’t wait to leave so he could function like a normal human being.

“Well, if I announce I’m here then everyone will notice,” he smiled cunningly.

The dancer had changed out of his crop top, shorts, and fishnets into black dress pants and a satin dress shirt. The top three buttons were undone, exposing a considerable amount of his skin to the vibrant atmosphere of the club. He did actually look like he had toned his appearance down to blend into the club a bit more.

“Do whatever you want, Oikawa.”

“Aww, you remembered my name, Iwa-chan. That’s so sweet. I’m so touched!”

Iwaizumi winced when he heard the nickname and said some insults underneath his breath before turning bottoms up once more.

“Or at least I want to be,” he said with a sly grin while he watched Iwaizumi choke on his drink. 

“Kidding! I’m just teasing you.”

“I’m sure you are, asshole.”

“Ooo, is that a bit of animosity I hear in your tone? Or are you just excited to see me?”

The whole situation was getting out of hand, and Iwaizumi had no control over anything. He had none when Oikawa was on stage dancing, and now he has none even while the dancer grabbed the drink right from his hand. He sang along to the music before throwing the vodka back.

_“If we don’t fuck this whole thing up, guaranteed I can blow your mind.”_

Instead of being caught up in the dancer’s surf, Iwaizumi decided to make waves of his own to see if he could change the tide.

“I liked your routine.”

The effort was there, but the execution was shit. Now he just felt like crawling into a hole and wasting away. Maybe he should have accepted those flirting lessons that Kuroo offered him years ago.

“Thank you! I’ll never perform it again. Pity, I really like the song.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, the owner switches up my routine every week. I scrap last Friday’s routine and learn a new one. He says it’ll keep the guests coming back and so far, it’s worked so I’m not complaining.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you have six days to learn an entirely new routine? And you do this every week?”

Oikawa nodded, stood from his barstool, and stretched his arms above his head.

“I hate to cut the conversation short but I’ve got work in the morning so you’ll have to excuse me.”

“Wait,” Iwaizumi said as he reached out and grabbed Oikawa’s wrist. “I’ll see you home.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t just show random men where I live. Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you lurking around every once in a while, handsome.”

His tone was playful but Iwaizumi felt something deeper working in the words. In his experience, Oikawa didn’t seem to do so well with stalkers and the whole joke threw him for a loop.

“Idiot, I know you’re scared of being stalked. Don’t force yourself to joke about it.”

For once, the façade dripped from Oikawa’s flawless face. No more smile, no more dimples, no more twinkly eyes. Iwaizumi’s words seemed to freeze him in place and he was glad to know there were more profound layers to the dancer. 

“At least let me get you a cab home, then.”

“No need, I live nearby. Care to walk me home?”

Oikawa decided to take a chance on his new friend. Iwaizumi is definitively attracted to him, yes, but he also seems genuine about his concern for the dancer’s safety. Besides, he had helped him chase off a creeper before. He couldn’t be that bad of a guy, right?

“Stay right here, then. I gotta make sure my friends get home.” 

Iwaizumi left his jacket in Oikawa’s possession before pulling his friends out of the club and sticking them in the back of a taxi. Oikawa met him outside the club and together they headed up the street.


	4. Do You Want to Find Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi just gets brave when there's alcohol in his system and Oikawa tries to pretend like he isn't affected by all the flirting.

“You’re such a good friend, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa beamed.

Each time he heard the nickname, it became easier to bear it. He wasn’t sure how he was acclimating to it, given that it made him want to step into oncoming traffic. Regardless, it’s hard to get angry about it when it comes from the mouth of someone who looks like Oikawa.

“It’s not about being a good friend. If you leave your drunk friends out the club, then you’re just a shit person.”

Oikawa led their leisurely stroll, casually slipping his arms around Iwaizumi’s bicep. He didn’t shrug it off or make a comment, just hummed softly. They walked for a while, enjoying the presence of the full moon. Iwaizumi was the first to break the silence.

“You mentioned you have work in the morning. Does the club open that early?”

The dancer giggled, and Iwaizumi blushed. He had to admit, the light brunet was cute. First, he’s beautiful, then he’s sensual, and now he’s cute. There were so many sides to him and it made him curious about what else there was to this man. Oikawa certainly didn’t seem like your average stripper turning tricks. That is, to say, that Iwaizumi hasn’t exactly interacted with many strippers in the first place.

“No, it doesn’t. I teach a dance class at the community center—it’s my day job.”

Iwaizumi made eye contact and held it as he waited for Oikawa to continue. Apparently, the latter mistook the former’s natural facial expression for judgement.

“Ah, I know what you’re thinking: ‘how can they hire a stripper to teach students?’ Well, number one, I’m not a stripper. I’m an exotic dancer—that’s d-a-n-c-e-r, not to be confused with stripper. Two, I don’t work for the school, they hire me as a contractor of sorts and I teach students who willingly want to take the class from all the colleges in the area. I get donations from the students so that the schools don’t get any legal reprimand for paying me . Besides they won’t even let me teach on school grounds.”

“You talk way too much, you know that? I wasn’t judging you. I just wanted to know more.”

Brief embarrassment played at Oikawa’s features before his twinkly smile reestablished itself. Desperate to avert attention from his social blunder, Oikawa decided to change the subject.

“What do you do for work, Iwa-chan?”

“I’m a mechanic. We actually passed my garage a while back.”

Oikawa stepped out in front of Iwaizumi and walked backwards, all the while beaming with excitement.

“Oh my gosh, that’s like so cool! You have your own business?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and tried to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t have to pretend, it’s significantly less exciting than dancing, and you know it.”

“That’s not true! I think being a mechanic is very interesting. I know nothing about cars, to be honest, but fixing them up seems like a fitting job for a strapping guy like you.”

“Is that so?”

The smooth chuckle the mechanic breathed out did about as much damage to Oikawa as watching Iwaizumi run his hand through his hair. The subtle flex of his muscles and the display of white teeth drew out a little more of the dancer’s attention. Their initial meeting may have been a complete coincidence, but Oikawa welcomes every second of further contact. He thought to himself that maybe an increase in effort on his part may be due.

“The garage originally belonged to my father, but it’s mine to take care of now. I enjoy the work, all things considered.”

“Oh,” Oikawa said, dropping his smile, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Iwaizumi stared at the dancer for a second before breaking into a fit of laughter, lightly tossing the hair on Oikawa’s head. The almond brunet’s heart fluttered listening to the mechanic laugh. It was melodic and slightly raspy; it inspired wrinkles in the corner of Iwaizumi’s eyes and previously hidden dimples emerged. Oikawa felt like he was really losing himself in the man’s enrapturing presence. It was raw and alluring, and the touch ended all to soon for him. Where was he getting this intense desire for more physical contact?

“He’s not dead, Oikawa. He retired and moved to the countryside with my mother. Believe me, the stubborn old geezer isn’t dying anytime soon.”

They slowed down and Iwaizumi looked up as he scanned the building. It was exorbitant and looked pricey, which left him wondering just what kind of money the dancer makes. 

“Join me for tea, handsome?”

“Inviting a stranger into your home? You’re very reckless for someone so pretty.”

Okay, let’s get one thing straight. Oikawa _is_ pretty and he _knows_ it, without a doubt. He’s used to the attention that comes with his striking looks and suggestive dancing and he’s certainly used to being told how attractive he is; so why does the compliment affect him so much more when it’s coming from the mouth of a man he barely knows? Maybe it’s because he knows that this one is sincere? Or he hopes it is, at least.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?”

“Well, why should you? If I were as gorgeous as you are, I would have a hard time trusting anyone.”

Iwaizumi stepped into Oikawa’s space, tone dangerously dripping in energy that was serving its intended purpose of electrifying the dancer. Oikawa could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the aftermath of a chill running down his spine. 

“Why shouldn’t I trust you?” Oikawa’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper as he searched the eyes of the man closing the distance between them. 

“For all you know, I’m just another creep.”

“I doubt it.” The answer was easy for Oikawa—some innate feeling told him this was a man he could trust. 

“Would you like to find out?”

The built mechanic was beating _the_ Oikawa Tooru at his own game and he was finding it far more attractive than he should. Is this what it felt like to be genuinely attracted to someone? Because so far, Oikawa is enjoying this little tune they’re dancing to, especially since Iwaizumi is taking the lead. A simple nod kept the two dancers in time.

“Give me your phone, then.”

Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s phone from his pant pocket, and stepped back with a smirk. A few taps and he was done. 

“Good night, Oikawa.”

“Wait, you don’t want my number?”

“I’m sure you’ll text me,” he said as he walked away, a simple wave punctuating his parting words.

With that, their dance ended. It wasn’t often that Oikawa was short-winded after dancing, but this one left him nearly breathless. In the elevator, he thought about all the men he’d brought up to his loft. He had never felt this way when it came to any of those men, so what was different about Iwaizumi? He obviously had a specific type of man he was into, but this one stood out from the rest in a way he couldn’t quite describe yet. 

What if he’d given any of those men half the effort he’s put into his interactions with Iwaizumi? Would he have had more than just a one-night stand with any of them? No, that didn’t seem to account for all that set Iwaizumi apart. Oikawa is a try hard and has to put effort into everything, so that couldn’t possibly explain it.

In the end, his desperate attempts to find an answer left him with more questions than he started with. What was it about Iwaizumi that made Oikawa crave more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen that some writers on AO3 announce updates of their fics on twitter. Would anyone be interested in getting update announcements via twitter?? 
> 
> p.s. I listened to Magnets by Disclosure while I wrote this chapter
> 
> p.s.s. I love this song so much that I named another fic I wrote after it. If you love BokuAka and wanna read about their passionate love encounters then go check it out!!!!===>; it's called Melting Magnets 
> 
> much love <33333


	5. Grease Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAH clever title, thank you, I know
> 
> btw I based Oikawa's routine off of the song Blades by FARR

“Takashi, hand me the wrench.”

Iwaizumi was covered in grease and sweat, thanks to the heat of the summer day. Underneath a jacked car, he worked the rusty bolts loose, screwing in new ones just as quickly. It was a rather slow day at the garage, and he figured everyone was just out enjoying the summer sun. When he pulled himself out from under the vehicle, the mechanic got a brief whiff of the ocean and a deep longing for the beach descended on him—what he wouldn’t give to be seaside right now. 

The only water he could access right now, though, was his water bottle and that was just as welcome. After drinking nearly the whole thing, Iwaizumi checked his phone, surprised to find a message. His few close friends knew he was at work or they were working in the garage with him so there’s only one person who could have sent him a rendezvous message.

“Hey, T, can you handle things here? I’ve gotta take care of something.”

“Aye aye, cap,” Takashi shouted from the other side of the shop.

Iwaizumi was unfamiliar with the building at the address, but he knew how to get there, more or less. One foot in front of the other eventually landed him right outside a community dance center. A smile wormed its way onto the mechanics face. He caught a fleeting glance of his current state in the glass door, taking in the grease smudges that showed up on his tan skin, even if they didn’t show up on his dark-gray wife beater. The mechanic was never one to care about his appearance much, so he shrugged and trudged on.

\--------------------------------------------

“Five! Six! Seven! Eight!” 

Oikawa was leading the room full of dancers, pointing and shouting out the counts to their warm up. It wasn’t like he could teach the students the routines he performs at Sparkling Waters so he ends up making his own. By the number of new dancers showing up each week, the routines seemed to really please the eye. They were just starting on a new one as of today. As it usually goes, Oikawa had to show them the full routine. 

He worked the music, moving his body exactly as his routine called for. The students watched, throwing in their encouragements with each dip and wave of their instructor’s limbs. It was a daunting beat, hard but harmonious. The minor chord progressions set the tone for the routine, as did Oikawa’s clever moves. 

When the section he choreographed ended and the next chorus began, Oikawa paused the music.

“Alright you guys, let’s get to it.”

They were able to progress through a good chunk of the routine. Their allotted time to use the studio was nearing its end so he gathered everyone up to go through it one more time.

“Three, four, five-- Ayano, remember to drop that shoulder! Good- hit, hit, nice!”

Oikawa walked through the rows of dancers, correcting mistakes wherever he saw them. Unaware that Iwaizumi had entered the studio, the dancer continued to walk through the rows, observing his students. When they finished all they had learned, the music stopped and most of the students quickly packed up. A few stayed behind to talk to their instructor about a move they were unsure about.

He demonstrated it, starting the wave at the tips of his fingers. It traveled across his chest before pulling in, his knee cranking with it as though it were on a tether. It was fluid yet precise, and Iwaizumi had to admit, it was impressive. He had never seen another human being move their body like that.

The students said their thanks before leaving, two of the girls giggling as they passed the mechanic. Oikawa’s head followed the sound, eyes finally landing on the greasy man, who’s arms were crossed at his chest. Deltoids and biceps magnificently displayed, Oikawa all but swooned.

“Put those away! You’ll sully the innocence of my students,” the dancer joked about the mechanics arms as he bent down to pick up his water bottle.

“They’re college students. How innocent can they be?”

“You’re telling me you weren’t a child of god during your college days?”

Iwaizumi laughed and walked towards a chair positioned in the front of the room. He swung it around so it faced back towards the studio, back towards Oikawa.

“I didn’t go to college. I took over the garage right after I graduated high school.”

“Something tells me you still found ways to get yourself into trouble.”

A devilish smirk lit up Iwaizumi’s face, sending electricity into their shared atmosphere. Oikawa’s skin felt the charge, hairs standing on end. What would it feel like to take the shock, the dancer wondered? 

“Of course-- my best friends went to college just to party. They were my way in.”

“Oh, then I bet you’re an excellent dancer since you’ve gotten plenty of practice.”

“Can’t dance for shit, but I know someone who can. Think he’ll teach me?”

The game they were playing excited the both of them. Each retort and comment smoother than the last, flirtation seemed to come a lot easier to them when there wasn’t alcohol involved. Though, the feeling of friction this created made them feel intoxicated all the same. This was new, unknown, and dangerous, serving to jumpstart all of Oikawa’s nerves. Never before had he met a man who could keep up with him.

“I’m sure if you ask sweetly, he might agree to a lesson or two.”

More laughter ensued on the mechanics part, eliciting some from the dancer.

“Alright, alright, show me what you’re teaching here. Maybe I’ll learn something.”

The dancer removed his hoodie, and retrieved his phone to start the music. His clingy sweatpants fell a little low on one side, exposing the delicate skin at his hip. After starting up the music, the dancer settled into it. He rocked to the beat until the familiar section of the music came up, smoothly setting out the routine as it advanced.

As he had done once before, Iwaizumi watched the dancer’s every move intently. This time around, the objective of the choreography was not to seduce, but to induce. It was awe-inspiring and the mechanic found himself enjoying this routine much more than the one he had seen at the club. Sure, the club choreo was a turn on, but this one was raw. Deep emotion seeped from every junction of each move, and it made Iwaizumi feel things he couldn’t describe.

It ended all too soon for him, but Iwaizumi was thankful he had gotten to see it in the first place. Standing in front of him was a gorgeous, messy-haired, talent who was looking at him with stars in eyes. At this point, the mechanic felt the word beautiful to be an understatement.

“You’re way too good at this to be working at a strip club.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of options for a modern hip hop dancer these days. Besides, the _exotic dance club_ is how I’m paying off my student loans. At this point, I’m seriously considering finding a sugar daddy.”

“Don’t.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t explain the entity that took over him and forced the words from his mouth—they were just out before he knew it and now he could never take them back.

“Oh Iwa-chan, I’m flattered but you’re far too young for my tastes. I like them rich, old, and decrepid. You know, the kind that look like they’re about to croak and leave behind a mighty large insurance policy.”

The mechanic rose an eyebrow to the confession, smile playing at his lips.

“I can’t promise you much,” he said as he stood from the chair and walked past the dancer, “but how about lunch on me?”

“I, Oikawa Tooru, humbly accept.”


	6. A Phone Call Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stalker makes contact and Oikawa calls Iwaizumi in the heat of the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys!!! I'm on twitter now!! :) ===> @_mac_23_
> 
> Go follow if you'd like extra content, updates on your favorite fic, or just to get to know the writer behind the stories <333
> 
> I'd also really love to interact with my readers more!!!!!!!!!!!

“So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Takashi said as he stood up from the chair in the garage, “when’s the last time that you left work that early?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Iwaizumi insisted.

“Seriously? Alright then. Just invite me and Kat over for dinner sometime.”

Iwaizumi paused and tore his eyes from the car in front of him. He hoisted up the new tire and set it into the hole the previous one had left, quickly getting to work installing it.

“It’s not like that.”

“I’m sure it’s not. You should have seen your face when you left—you’re falling for him.”

“I literally met him like two weeks ago.”

Takashi laughed and got the next tire for Iwaizumi. They worked in tandem like this, smoothly transitioning between each task as they have for years. The garage is as much Takashi’s as it is Iwaizumi’s . They met during high school when Iwaizumi’s father hired him for the busy season. There was no one else who understood Iwaizumi better, and he continued to hit the nail on the head each time.

“Damn, you move fast.”

“T, shut the hell up and give me the tire. And weren’t you supposed to go home a few hours ago? It’s already eleven, Kat is gonna be pissed.”

“Okay, okay,” Takashi said as he raised his hands defensively, “just promise me I get to be the best man, ya?”

Iwaizumi glared at him like he was John Wick and Takashi just murdered his puppy. Killing intent was a complete understatement. His best friend had no clue what he was talking about. Though, it wasn’t like Iwaizumi understood himself. 

This thing that he and Oikawa had—how could he explain it? He barely knew the guy, yet they flirted incessantly whenever they talked; he wanted things he shouldn’t want after only knowing the dancer for all of sixteen days. Maybe it was too early to slap a definition on this? Whatever the hell it was, he wanted to see where it would go. 

“Speak of the devil,” Takashi said when he heard Iwaizumi’s phone ring, “I’m gonna leave you to it then.”

As the mechanic showed himself out, Iwaizumi put his cell phone in the nook of his neck between his ear and shoulder and wiped his hands free of grease.

“Hello?”

“ _Iwa-chan,_ ” the voice on the other side of the phone whispered, “ _there’s a man—I don’t know how he got into the building. He’s trying to get into my apartment._ ”

Iwaizumi immediately dropped the cloth and rushed for his jacket. The dancer’s voice quivered as he whispered, sending the mechanic’s heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Where are you right now? Are you in the apartment?”

“ _No, I’m in the stairwell. I think he may have seen me, I-I’m not sure._ ”

“Okay, stay put, I’m on my way.”

“ _Oh god, he saw me, he’s coming towards me._ ”

“Oikawa, listen to me, go back down the stairs,” Iwaizumi said as he rounded the corner that faced the street Oikawa’s building was on, “I’m almost there.”

As Iwaizumi neared the building, he could make out a familiar crown of almond colored hair being pulled down the front steps of the apartment building, led by a hooded man. When he turned left on the sidewalk, he ran face first into Iwaizumi and was knocked to the ground by the mechanic’s elbow. Oikawa immediately fled for Iwaizumi’s side, clutching at the fabric that stuck to his savior’s back.

The hooded man scrambled to his feet and took off down the street. Iwaizumi was torn between chasing down the guy and staying with Oikawa. Considering how tightly the dancer clung to his shirt, Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa and led him into the apartment building by hand. All the way up to the seventh floor, the dancer had a death grip on the mechanic’s hand, though the latter had no objection. 

In the light of the elevator, Iwaizumi could see bruises from where the stalker’s fingers had bit into Oikawa’s flesh, his anger rising up from the ashes. They exchanged no words, even when they stepped into the dancer’s apartment.

It was neat and well-decorated—a very Oikawa-like apartment. Not a single thing was out of place which gave the place a vague feeling of emptiness. It didn’t look very lived in, but Iwaizumi didn’t have the mind to think about it now. He focused all of his attention on the dancer. When his legs gave out at the front door, Iwaizumi scooped him up into his arms and carried him to the couch. When he started to hyperventilate, Iwaizumi talked him through it and got him water. When the tears began to fall, Iwaizumi held him close and ran his hands up and down his back. 

“I’m gonna call the police, okay? You need to report this.”

Wordlessly, Oikawa assented and listened in as Iwaizumi chatted with the operator. Within ten minutes, two officers showed up to take his statement. He explained the events in the order that they happened, including the incidents he had had prior-- the silent calls save heavy breathing, the odd notes in his PO box, and gifts left for him at work. 

Iwaizumi could feel the weight of his words on his conscience; all this happened since they met and he had no clue? Just what kind of dream land has he been living in? Iwaizumi felt deeply ashamed of his ignorance. 

The officers collected dried blood from Iwaizumi’s jacket sleeve and left with their statements. Iwaizumi mounted their business card to the fridge with one of the many unused magnets adorning the sleek metal surface. He returned to the living area where Oikawa was still sitting on the couch when he heard the small sniffles and muffled whimpers return. The mechanic opened himself up to receive a traumatized dancer who swiftly took advantage of his welcoming arms.

They stayed like this until Oikawa fell asleep in the lap of the mechanic. The dancer had an inch or two on Iwaizumi, but curled up in his lap, he seemed so small. There was little body fat to the man, if there were any at all. He was covered in lean muscle, instead. By Iwaizumi’s estimates, the man weighed as much as a feather. Iwaizumi spent his time observing Oikawa until his breathing finally evened out. 

The mechanic fished his phone from his pocket, careful not to disturb the sleeping man in his lap. A quick text to Takashi about his absence from work tomorrow preceded a yawn that eventually pulled the drowsy man down into dreamland.

\------------------------------

When Oikawa woke up, the first and foremost pressing situation was his sleeping right arm. The irritating static was quickly set aside when he became aware of the hand that rested firm against his back. Before he could panic, air softly brushed the hair that fell against his forehead. The dancer craned his neck back to find the sleeping face of his favorite mechanic a few inches from his face.

If anyone asked, Oikawa would admit he had an interest in Iwaizumi, but this is not how he imagined their story to unfold. The dancer could see the dark spot his running mascara had left on the mechanic’s shirt the night before. Uncertain as to what he should do, Oikawa licked his finger and tried to carefully rub the mascara out of the material.

“What are you doing?”

Startled by the sudden question from the, what should be, sleeping man, Oikawa tried to back out of their shared space, but was held firmly in place. 

“I got makeup on your shirt, I was just trying to wipe it off.”

Lazily, Iwaizumi yawned and chuckled

“Do you know how much grease on get on myself when I work? I’m not worried about stains on my shirt.”

“R-right.” 

Now face to face with the dancer, Iwaizumi could see how puffy his eyes were from crying. Faint mascara trails lined his cheeks, and Iwaizumi traced them with his eyes before replacing them with his hands. The skin underneath his callous thumbs was soft and faintly damp from where it had laid against a patch of tear-soaked cloth. 

As Iwaizumi breathed out, Oikawa breathed in. The former searched the dancer’s eyes—what he was looking for, he couldn’t say exactly. When the tension had built to the point it became tangible, the mechanic cut right through it.

“Are you okay, Oikawa?”

The dancer brought his hands up to rest on Iwaizumi’s, giving a subtle nod in response to his question. 

“I should, uh, go and clean myself up.”

Iwaizumi let him untangle himself and watched him disappear down a hallway. After he heard the distant sound of shower water running, the mechanic helped himself to Oikawa’s kitchen. His search disappointed him when all that turned up were a few microwavable meals and some cereal in the cupboard. He thought to himself that this may be why the dancer was mostly skin and bones. 

It was nine a.m. and Iwaizumi knew of only one breakfast place that delivered. After a quick phone call, the order for several bagels was made and the mechanic set to work on making some coffee. He liked to consider himself a modest man— he wasn’t one to brag; however, he wouldn’t deny that he could make a mean cup of coffee.

The smell of percolating coffee filled the flat, eventually reaching Oikawa’s nose. After toweling himself off, the dancer found some comfort clothes and waltzed back into the living area. Hesitantly, he inspected the source, pleased with the scent of a deep roast. Before he could help himself, the door opened and a familiar face came inside with a brown paper bag.

“What’s that, Iwa-chan?”

“Breakfast. How was your shower?”

“Good, much needed.”

It was a relatively quiet and comfortable morning. They didn’t talk about the events of the night prior, nor did they talk about the small moment they had before. After what Oikawa’s been through, Iwaizumi figured he should leave it alone, lest the dancer feel forced into a corner. This was not the time to make a move and he knew that. 

“Iwa-chan, about last night I-“

“If you apologize, I’ll defenestrate you,” he said flatly without looking up from his food.

“I was going to say thank you. I haven’t gotten that good of a night’s sleep in a while...”

“You don’t have to say thank you either. I gave you my number for a reason. If weird things start happening again, I don’t care how small, call me.”

Iwaizumi felt like maybe his anger was seeping into his words just a little bit. He had no right to be bitter, especially after what Oikawa has had to endure all alone. Even if the dancer doesn’t call him when shit hits the fan, he wanted to make sure Oikawa knows that Iwaizumi is always there for him. He just has to pick up the phone and call.

“I didn’t think that anyone would go that far. I mean, I’ve been getting weird phone calls and letters and stuff ever since I joined the club so I guess I thought I was used to it.”

“How long have you been working at the club?”

“Only two years.”

Incredulous, Iwaizumi finished his food and washed it down with coffee.

“This has been going on for two years?”

Oikawa wasn’t sure what more he was supposed to say. He honestly never thought that it would escalate to this point. No one had made contact before and his building was a relatively secure one for the neighborhood. When he saw someone trying to lockpick his door, the worst scenarios flashed in his mind. That night, he shed extra tears for the horrors he could have gone through because the reality of his situation scared the absolute hell out of him.

“Stay with me for a while—until they catch the guy.”

It took a bit of face-searching and a few affirmations before it really sunk in that Iwaizumi was dead-serious. There were two possible explanations as to why the mechanic would go this far for a man he barely knows: one, he was just a really exemplary friend, or two, Iwaizumi likes him considerably. The nervousness winding through his veins told him what he was truly hoping for and even though the offer enticed him, he felt obligated to decline. How could he burden Iwaizumi with his problems knowing full well the toll that they can take on a person?

“Oikawa, it’s not right that you feel unsafe in your own home. I don’t think you should stay here while your stalker is out there.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then...”

“Don’t worry about that. Get your things, I’ve gotta run back to the garage to get my car. I’ll text you when I’m out front, okay?”

The subconscious realization that Iwaizumi was leaving filled him with a sense of dread. Oikawa hurriedly caught Iwaizumi at the door, grasping at his arm in a desperate attempt to rope him back. The mechanic staggered backwards into an awkwardly positioned hug, which he quickly corrected.

“Please don’t leave me here by myself,” the dancer whispered into Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait right here, then,” he said as he lifted Oikawa’s head and placed a soft and simple kiss to his forehead, “we’ll leave together.”


	7. One Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first night Oikawa spends at Iwaizumi's place changes everything.

There was one word on the tip of Oikawa’s tongue that he couldn’t quite manifest. It was the word that described the small, comfortable apartment that Iwaizumi had introduced him to. It was well-kept and furnished with black and gray tones. In the kitchen, there was far more to eat than just the freezer meals he bought from the store. There was cat hair everywhere he went but he didn’t mind it; actually, he loved cats. So, seeing the black-coated feline saunter up to him when they arrived brought him quite a bit of joy. 

Iwaizumi set Oikawa up in his room, a courtesy for the guest in the house. The dancer protested but it went nowhere. Iwaizumi insisted that he didn’t invite him to stay there just so he could sleep on his old couch. 

The man’s room gave off a very Iwaizumi vibe, modest and deep. His olive skin tones were accentuated by the dark grays of his walls and bed sheets-- sheets for a bed that looked way too large for one person to sleep in. 

After settling in, Oikawa took up perch on the end of the couch in the living room. There, a curious cat inspected him before deeming him a trustworthy biped, a soft rub of his head against Oikawa’s cheek to show for it. 

“She’s a sweet girl, isn’t she?”

Iwaizumi spoke lovingly as he made his way to the connected living room with two mugs of tea. Oikawa laughed and scratched under her chin. He flipped the tag on her collar over and read aloud her name.

“Ellie, huh? American name?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed as the cat left Oikawa to settle into the mechanic’s lap, “I adopted her from a couple years ago. Wife was American. Turns out the marriage failed and she couldn’t take Ellie home with her so now she lives with me.”

Oikawa could tell that the cat really loved Iwaizumi and that her love was returned in kind. The sight of his bright smile as he showered affection on Ellie tugged on his heart strings. Iwaizumi’s love of cats was another thing that the dancer put on his list of reasons to like him. Honestly at this point, everything he had learned about the mechanic made him sink a little bit deeper into the pit of his feelings. Pretty soon, with all these details emerging, Oikawa was going to be completely submerged and he wasn’t quite sure if he was more scared or excited.

“Oikawa, are you feeling alright?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.”

“Are you sure? You’re a little red,” Iwaizumi said as he placed the back of his hand to Oikawa’s head.

The dancer froze in place, hyperaware of the mechanic’s touch. He nearly imploded with the yearn to feel more contact, whining inaudibly when Iwaizumi retracted his hand and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, it was with some aspirin and water that Oikawa accepted.

“I’ve gotta be at the studio tomorrow morning so…” he trailed off, motioning to the bedroom door.

“Of course, yeah. Sleep well. Let me know if you need anything.”

It was a rough first night of sleeping for Oikawa. The lingering scent of the mechanic kept him awake, at first, with thoughts he had no desire to acknowledge. Later, when a steamy dream ripped him from his sleep, it was three a.m. and he was extremely dehydrated. He desperately needed water and reluctantly tore himself from the warm sheets of Iwaizumi’s bed. Stealthily, the dancer snuck out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, yelping when a figure moved in the dark. 

Thoughts of the hooded man that tried to steal him away in the night took over his body as he reflexively cowered. He could feel the fingers around his wrist and the tightness in his chest as he gasped for air. The hooded man had come back to take him and he couldn’t speak or even scream. Tears threatened to flow until Iwaizumi spoke through the chaos.

“Hey, hey, calm down. You’re okay. You’re safe, I promise. It’s just me.”

In his hands, Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s face while he softly reassured him. Sweet words left his lips, determined to soothe the dancer’s frightened nature. He waited patiently until the dancer calmed down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting something to drink,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa wiped the forming tears from his eyes and took a deep breath, followed by a few more. Eventually, when he regained control of his emotions, his senses brought to his attention the situation at hand. 

The faint moonlight coming from the window illuminated a shirtless mechanic with disheveled hair. Oikawa didn’t get time to admire the sight before it registered that they were extremely close. He could feel the heat radiating from Iwaizumi, especially from his hands. They were backed against the counter where Oikawa had cowered, and now they stood frozen in time. Silently, they looked at each other long enough for realization to set in.

In one slow, but smooth, motion, Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa. Chaste and sweet, the kiss lasted no longer than a few seconds. 

Iwaizumi was sincerely concerned for Oikawa’s well-being, and while he did believe that now might not be the best time to make a move, he felt like the kiss needed to happen. Oikawa’s soft skin, flustered features, doe eyes, everything-- it all drew Iwaizumi in. Takashi was right: he’s definitely fallen for Oikawa.

The dancer waited with heavy anticipation, looking for something—anything—that could answer the questions flying through his mind. Did Iwaizumi truly like him? Like, _like like_ him? Did he kiss him out of pity? Or did he actually want Oikawa? There was only one way to find out.

Oikawa leaned in and reinitiated the kiss. Hesitation was a thing of the past, as they got more comfortable with the feel of each other. Iwaizumi took to Oikawa’s hair, threading his fingers through the silky strands. After the dancer sighed, he realized that he had been holding his breath since they first kissed.

With a sense of exigency, Oikawa pulled Iwaizumi closer, entangling him in his gravity. They exchanged breaths and held each other tighter and tighter still. In a fit of boldness, Iwaizumi knelt down without breaking the kiss and hoisted Oikawa up by his thighs. He carried him to the bedroom rather easily and gently placed him on the bed. More kissing ensued, followed by the removal of clothing by both parties.

The world had stopped spinning for the dancer. He was utterly in the moment, surrounded by everything Iwaizumi; his scent, his heat, his affection. His uncertainty felt like a distant memory now that he knew Iwaizumi wanted him in the same way. Trained muscle worked over him, pleasing him in ways he could never have imagined. Iwaizumi lost himself in the breathy moans of the man beneath him, leaving kisses anywhere he could reach. They greedily drank each other in, drowning in the madness of passion together.

That night, they spent hours wrapped up in each other. Though it was their first time laying together, it wasn’t awkward nor was it clumsy. It sated the cravings that had been building up inside them. It seemed so simple, like they belonged together right there in Iwaizumi’s bed. 

Under the weight of Iwaizumi’s body and gaze, Oikawa felt deeply wanted. He felt comfort with him like he had never felt with anyone else. Just his presence was enough to eliminate any doubt or fear, and having him so close made Oikawa feel safe. It was only when he spent the night in Iwaizumi’s arms, did the word that eluded him a few days prior come to him. It was the feeling that overcame him when he first arrived; the feeling that left butterflies in his stomach before he could fall asleep; the feeling that melted him from the inside out with each kiss Iwaizumi placed on his skin--how comfortable and right. He finally understood: it all felt like _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crying in the club rn you guys,,,,,,,, I can't ever get enough of these two
> 
> I'll be writing iwaoi until the day I die


End file.
